And the Devil Smiled
by Cheeky Slytherin Lass
Summary: Albus, Gellert, and a game of danger and disillusionment.


_For the Quidditch League Fanfiction Competition_

 _Holyhead Harpies, Beater Two_

 _Mandatory: 1950s, "Mack the Knife" by Bobby Darin_

 _Optional: Godric's Hollow, blend, and "How could you possibly think that was a good idea?"_

 _Also for the Around the World in 31 Days on Hogwarts (Greece: Gellert Grindelwald)_

 _And the Halloween Character Challenge on HPFC (Demon: Gellert Grindelwald)_

 _Word Count: 2063_

* * *

 _A/N: While the song I was assigned is a peppy song about a murderer, I saw a different interpretation in the lyrics I used. These lyrics made me think of being drawn in by something dangerous and becoming disillusioned._

 _A/N2: The use of religion may seem strange, but as Kendra Dumbledore was a Muggle-born, I can see her being raised with religion, given the time period._

* * *

" _Oh, the shark, babe, has pretty teeth, dear_

 _And it shows them, pearly white."_

Albus knows he's doomed the moment he sees the boy in Bathilda Bagshot's yard. Blond hair and clever blue eyes set Albus' heart on fire within seconds.

The stranger glances up and catches Albus staring. Albus swallows, wishing he could cast a quick spell so that he can blend in with the shadows, but the boy turns his insides to jelly, and Albus cannot focus. He must know the effect he's having on Albus; he stares a moment longer before offering Albus a charming, hypnotic grin.

It takes several moments for Albus to snap back to his senses. He shakes his head and quickens his pace. Aberforth has volunteered to tend to Ariana today; they don't need Albus, but that doesn't stop him from hurrying back to his home.

As he closes the door behind him, he can still feel those piercing blue eyes boring into him. Worse, he can still see that bright, dangerous smile.

"You look like you've seen a ghost," Aberforth teases, pausing in the living room with a tray of sandwiches and tea.

"A ghost? Hardly. I've either seen an angel or a demon," Albus whispers. "I can't tell which."

His younger brother snorts and rolls his eyes. Albus isn't surprised. Aberforth has never found endless comfort in intellectual pursuits the way Albus has. While Albus would happily read any book he could get his hands on, including the religious texts his mother had cherished, Aberforth had chosen to remain blissfully ignorant that there could be more to life than those ridiculous goats.

"Neither." The younger wizard seems to have lost interest already. He begins to walk away, the cups and plates clattering noisily on the tray. "They don't exist."

Albus scowls at his brother's retreating figure. Part of him wants to follow Aberforth and help him overcome his ignorance. If Aberforth could only appreciate the glorious motif of good versus evil found in their mother's Bible, he would understand why this stranger with beautiful eyes and a dangerous smile has left Albus' mind in such a state.

Still, he knows that there is no point. There is no intelligent conversation to be had in this home. Aberforth is far too simple, and Ariana is far too mad.

His mind returns to those clever blue eyes. Maybe, just maybe, there is someone in Godric's Hollow who can match his wit.

…

It takes him nearly a week to work up the courage to knock on Bathilda Bagshot's door. As his knuckles strike the wood, he nearly laughs. Albus Dumbledore, the brave Gryffindor, is too much of a coward to follow his heart.

The stranger opens the door, and Albus feels his heart sink into his stomach. "Aunt Bathilda isn't feeling well," he says. "She doesn't need any visitors."

"I was actually here to speak with you," Albus says, amazed that his voice does not quiver and break from his nerves.

The other wizard offers him that brilliant smile, and Albus has the feeling he'd been expecting this moment. "Me? Ah, I see. You grew tired of staring at me from afar," he laughs.

Albus' cheeks flood with a sudden heat. He looks away quickly, praying the other man doesn't notice the flush of color. "I'm Albus," he says, and it looks like he's speaking to a potted beneath the window. "Albus Dumbledore."

"Gellert Grindelwald."

Albus forces his gaze back to Gellert. "It's very nice to meet you," he says, and he hates the way his voice sounds so small, so meek. It does not fit him at all, and he expects Gellert to laugh at him and slam the door in his face.

Instead, Gellert steps aside, making a gesture with his hand. "Would you like to come in? I can put the kettle on."

Albus hesitates. He knows he should decline; there are far too many things he has to get done at home. But isn't that the very reason he's chosen this moment to speak to Gellert? Hasn't he long since grown tired of having to limit himself to tedious domestic magic and dull conversations that lack substance?

"Tea would be lovely," he says, stepping inside.

…

It doesn't take Albus long to realize he's fallen in love. Sadly, he knows that it will remain unrequited. Gellert is married to his work. _Their work._

They have more in common than Albus could have ever imagined. Gellert is just as clever, just as skilled with the wand as Albus. He can spend hours discussing and debating anything and everything under the sun.

And, Albus is strangely delighted to discover, Gellert has similar grievances with Muggles. His reasons aren't as noble as Albus', but Gellert had shared his anger as Albus had told him about his beloved sister being tormented by those wretched Muggle boys, and he'd insisted that Albus' father had done the right thing when he'd set out to settle the score.

"We should not be the ones hiding," Gellert insists, furiously pacing the length of Albus' bedroom. "We are special, Albus."

Albus nods. They've already had this conversation countless times. In the beginning, Albus had argued, but Gellert has a silver tongue, and it took only one quick debate to sway Albus.

" _Ariana's fate is proof enough that the Statute of Secrecy does not keep us safe. It makes us different, and that scares the Muggles when they learn the truth."_

"Special," Albus echoes.

"We take them down so that witches and wizards can rise and take our rightful place," Gellert says, coming to a stop at last, his blue eyes wild with excitement.

"For the greater good," Albus agrees.

Gellert offers him a wicked grin, and Albus shivers. Maybe Gellert doesn't love him; maybe Albus is a fool for wishing. It doesn't matter. All it takes is a quick flash of those pearly teeth, and Albus knows he will follow Gellert to the ends of the earth.

…

"I don't like him," Aberforth says one night after Gellert leaves.

Albus rolls his eyes. Of course Aberforth doesn't like Gellert. Gellert is far too brilliant for the younger Dumbledore to appreciate.

He chooses not to respond to his brother and quickly busies himself with the kettle. It doesn't matter if Aberforth likes Gellert or not. Gellert is Albus' friend, and his brother's opinion will not change that.

"He's dangerous, Albus."

Albus chuckles softly and shakes his head. "He is a revolutionary," he defends, summoning a cup with a wave of his wand as the kettle begins to whistle. "You wouldn't understand him."

There's a brief silence, and Albus assumes he's won the argument. He pours the hot water over the tea bag and moves to the table. He takes a seat, enjoying the sudden peace. Gellert has left him with quite a few things to consider.

"I may not be as smart as you," Aberforth says, disturbing the wonderful quiet, "but even an idiot can see that Gellert Grindelwald is a wicked man."

"Wicked man?" Albus repeats, adding cream to his tea and watching it form milky clouds before blending in with the amber liquid. "His values may not align with your own, but that hardly makes him wicked."

Aberforth exhales deeply. Albus smiles. If his brother gets frustrated enough, he'll let the matter drop, and Albus will be able to enjoy his tea in peace. All he has to do is wait.

"All it takes is his bloody smile, and you don't care about anything else anymore," Aberforth accuses.

Albus absently traces his finger over the table. Cloak, wand, stone. If he focuses on the Deathly Hallows, he can drown out his brother's voice more easily.

"You make all these plans with him, and you send him letters at all hours of the night," Aberforth continues. "What about us, Albus? What about your family?"

Albus rises angrily to his feet. "I'm thinking of my family," he hisses. "I am trying to create a better world for our sister!"

"Yeah? And what happens when your beloved Gellert decides our sister is too mad to be part of your perfect world?"

The words hit Albus hard. It almost feels as though his brother has physically struck him. He opens his mouth to argue, but Aberforth doesn't give him a chance. The younger boy stalks out of the kitchen, leaving Albus alone with his thoughts.

"He'll see," Albus mutters, tracing the sign of the Deathly Hallows over the table top once again. "It's for the greater good."

He wonders if his brother will ever understand.

…

The room is in chaos. Aberforth twitches, still caught in the aftereffects of the Cruciatus Curse. Gellert stands before them, still smiling that deadly smile.

Now, Albus sees him for what he is. He had wanted so desperately to believe that Gellert had been an avenging angel, sent to help Albus create a better world. Now he remembers that the devil had once been the most beautiful angel.

He's spent so much time prepared to fight by Gellert's side, but things are different now. He stands by his brother, wand raised at the man he had been foolish enough to love.

"You do not want me as an enemy, Albus," Gellert says. "Be wise. Think of what we could accomplish together."

 _Together._ He tries to pretend the word doesn't hurt, but it does. Even now, he can see that beautiful empire that he and Gellert could build. He can see himself by Gellert's side, creating a place where their kind would never have to hide again, where they could be proud and open about their gifts.

Those dreams are gone now. Gellert is not the beautiful savior Albus had wanted him to be. He is a monster, and Albus had nearly allowed himself to become one as well.

"You attacked my brother," Albus says quietly.

Aberforth grumbles beside him. "I don't need you to protect me," he mutters.

Before Albus can tell Aberforth to shut up, Gellert casts the first spell.

" _Protego!"_ Albus cries.

Within seconds, the room explodes with light as curses and hexes are exchanged. Albus is surprised that Aberforth can keep up with him. While he is a skilled duelist, his brother has always been slower. "Nicely done!" Albus praises.

A sudden scream pierces the air. In the back of his mind, he registers that it's Ariana, that the chaos has overwhelmed her, but he doesn't stop. He allows her howling to push him, her panic solidifying his determination to keep his family safe.

The fight wages. He flicks his wand, sending every defensive spell he can think of.

"Ariana!" Aberforth calls after what feels like an eternity, and Albus wants to yell at him for being careless enough to drop his wand.

It takes a moment for him to realize that Gellert has stopped firing as well. Albus feels his stomach grow sour as he takes in the strange silence. When had Ariana stopped screaming?

Aberforth rushes away, dropping to his knees and cradling their sister in his arms. Albus watches, frozen in horror as understanding slowly sets in. "Ariana," Aberforth whispers. "No… Please…"

When he pulls his attention away from his siblings, he realizes that Gellert is no longer smiling. Panic flares through those beautiful eyes. Without a word, he darts from the living room, slamming the door behind him as he disappears into the night.

…

"You brought him into their lives," Albus says to himself as he walks through Godric's Hollow on his way to the cemetery. "How could you possibly think that was a good idea?"

His intentions had been good. He tells himself over and over, hoping he'll eventually believe his own words. So far, the pitiful reassurances have done nothing to bring him peace.

It's his fault. Maybe he hadn't been the one to kill his sister, but she would still be alive if Albus hadn't allowed Gellert into his home and heart.

He had been so caught up in those eyes and that smile to realize something dark had been lurking inside Gellert. Now it's too late; Ariana is dead, and it's all Albus' fault.

And yet, as he passes Bathilda Bagshot's house, his eyes still search the windows, and he prays for one last glimpse of those clever blue eyes and that dangerous smile.

" _Ya know when that shark bites with his teeth, babe_

 _Scarlet billows start to spread"_


End file.
